


the way through the woods

by dvntldr



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Amami Rantaro is a Godsend, Depressed Oma Kokichi, M/M, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Oma Kokichi-centric, POV Oma Kokichi, Sad Oma Kokichi, Suicidal Oma Kokichi, Supportive Amami Rantaro, Sweet Amami Rantaro, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:22:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvntldr/pseuds/dvntldr
Summary: kokichi doesn’t hear rantaro following him to the roof.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Oma Kokichi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 101





	the way through the woods

“oma-kun?”

kokichi looks up and immediately regrets it. rantaro is watching him from just outside the door to the roof, his pinched expression openly concerned. he silently sucks in an irritated breath, glancing away, down at the void below him for just a second before pulling on an easy, bright smile. 

“whaddya want, amami-chan?” he beams, feeling himself tense up just barely when the other boy inches a bit closer. “never thought i’d see you skipping class! you’re getting adventurous in your old age, huh?” 

“my birthday was yesterday,” rantaro reminds, the smile crinkles by his eyes strained. “and i have a free period now. what are _you_ doing here?” _on the roof,_ he doesn’t say, but kokichi hears it anyways. the smaller shrugs, kicking his feet freely—one of his shoes flies off, stolen by the wind, and he watches it disappear all the way down with a disinterested look. 

“i got bored of listening to iruma-chan’s voice.” he pouts, tugging at one of his purple curls lightly. “she’s so noisy, it’s like listening to a tractor whirr on and on. i don’t know how you can stand that dumb bitch for so long...is that your ultimate talent? i’m truly impressed!” 

unfazed, rantaro takes a few steps closer. kokichi can see his silhouette just barely out of the corner of his eye—he’s never seen the older boy this worried before.

“let’s go back inside,” the green-haired boy says softly, diverting the conversation. “it’s cold up here. i’m sure there’s gotta be some hot chocolate left in the kitchens.” 

“i’m not hungry,” he says, a touch too honest; rantaro gives him a _look_ and he turns his head, this time staring determinedly at the hard ground far, far beneath him. “i ate earlier, stole some of momota-chan’s chocolates! he won’t miss them, surely, he eats enough of those—“

“ _oma-kun_ ,” rantaro murmurs again, and suddenly he’s much, much closer. kokichi lets out a surprised _oof_ as he’s lifted up easily into the other boy’s arms, rantaro manhandling him off the roof and all the way into the stairwell before shutting and bolting the door behind them firmly. kokichi scowls fiercely, ready to let out a string of harsh insults and storm off when he sees the previous collected look slide off rantaro’s face, immediately replaced by terrible, terrible amounts of fear and _relief_ , and he wants to lunge forwards to scratch it off that _stupid_ boy’s face but— 

“you scared me,” rantaro sighs softly into his hair, pulling him abruptly close and into a warm hug—the smaller stiffens up immediately, wary of the strong hands that settle on his back, but the other ultimate doesn’t seem to care, just tightening his embrace further. “what were you thinking? i thought—you looked like you were gonna—“ 

“so what?” kokichi spits spitefully, and shoves rantaro away—the older grabs his hand, grip clammy, and he hisses at that. “what the fuck do you want from me, amami-chan? because i’ll tell you right goddamn now, you keep your dirty fucking fingers to yourself or you’ll _lose_ them.” enjoying the look of distinct horror on the other boy’s face, he continues, feeling the reluctant butterflies in his stomach wither and die. “i can’t believe you thought you could pull that off. you can’t lie to a liar, so don’t try pulling the _i really do care about you_ routine because it. won’t. _work.”_ he punctuates the last few words by jabbing his finger into rantaro’s chest roughly, sneering, “so just fuck off right now because i’m not interested in your tricks or your schemes—“ 

“oma-kun. oma. _kokichi.”_

at the sound of his given name he pauses, re-evaluates the stricken look on rantaro’s face. a little part of him cringes, curls into a little ball when he sees rantaro’s eyes, so overbright with tears—but he’d wanted this outcome, wanted to hurt him so—

“you _idiot,_ ” rantaro says quietly, still holding kokichi’s hand in a death-grip. kokichi opens his mouth, takes a deep breath to keep the vitrol flowing when lips meet his, soft and sweet and so _perfect._ he gapes, in complete shock, and watches rantaro pull back after a moment, a wistful look in his eyes. “wasn’t sure of how to shut you up,” he shrugs casually, and while kokichi is still reeling, pulls him into another hug, this one gentler, kinder. unable to help himself, the purple-haired boy melts against the taller compliantly, the remaining tension in his back being smoothed over by reassuring fingers that rub repeated circles into his skin. 

“you kissed me.”

“yeah,” rantaro nods.

“you _kissed_ me.”

“yes,” amusement tints his reply and kokichi feels like a _goddamn_ moron. “yes, i did. did you like it?”

“did i—i just yelled at you, and your response was to _kiss_ me?” kokichi points out frantically, to which rantaro just nods again, unperturbed.

“yeah, well. it looked like you were gonna keep going if i didn’t do something to stop it, so…” the older male’s expression morphs into something a little more serious. “and you needed to let some steam off, anyways. i’d rather you yell at me than go flinging yourself off rooftops. speaking of which…” gentle fingers take ahold of his chin, lifting it up, and kokichi’s gaze drops down, unwilling to meet the other boy’s analytical eyes. “what was that all about?”

what was that all about indeed. how is he supposed to go about explaining the multiple reasons why he wants to die? instead, he slips on a wide, teasing smile, lifting his head coyly to look at rantaro through lowered lashes. “i just like heights,” he says innocently. “i’m a daredevil, didntcha know? anyways, who’s to say i was gonna fling myself off a rooftop? though i have done that before, but a helicopter picked me up and—“

“you don’t have to lie,” rantaro offers gently, and kokichi’s mouth falls shut automatically, stunned by the easy acceptance. “you don’t even have to tell me. i just want you to be safe and happy. okay? and...tell me if you wanna sit on the roof. i’ll come with next time, bring hot drinks and everything.” 

kokichi studies rantaro’s face intently, searching for any lie—he detects none and yet the confusion within him only grows. 

“why would you do that for me, amami-chan?” he asks, genuinely curious about the answer. rantaro narrows his eyes and instant panic rises in his throat, tasting a whole lot like bile—god, he should have just kept his mouth shut—when rantaro (oh, he’d forgotten they were still holding hands) lets go of his hand to cup his cheek. 

“why, i wonder,” rantaro muses. “maybe i’m a sucker for pain. maybe i’m just bored. or maybe i like spending time with you, oma-kun.” his hand falls to his side and he tilts his head down at kokichi, his smile filled with fondness. “or maybe i like _you_. i thought the kiss would’ve given it away, but apparently not.” 

“it’s kokichi.” the words slip from his lips without permission, though the brilliant smile on rantaro’s face more than makes up for his momentary loss of control. “and i…” 

“you don’t have to say it back,” rantaro quickly interrupts, expression suddenly painfully anxious. “don’t feel pressured, i just—“

“shut up,” kokichi says firmly, and raises himself up onto his tiptoes to kiss him. rantaro makes a shocked sound, but kisses back without hesitation, pinning him against the wall. a shiver travels up his spine and he gasps into the kiss, shuddering when rantaro’s hand slides to the back of his head to steady him. “you’re so dumb, amami-chan,” he breathes as they part, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. 

rantaro snorts, ruffling the shorter’s fluffy curls like one would a puppy. “says you. and if i can use kokichi for you, you can use rantaro for me, okay?”

“ran-ran-chan!” kokichi gasps dramatically, holding a faux-shocked hand to his mouth. he still feels a little off, but standing this close to rantaro...he _almost_ prefers it more than sitting at the ledge. “ah, you’re too kind, letting me use your first name. does this mean you wanna join DICE?”

“sure, but only if i’m your right-hand man.” rantaro begins to lead them down the staircase, but kokichi digs his heels in. he’s so tired. it’s been a long day. he’s happy now, with rantaro here, finally happier than he’s been in a long, long time—he thinks he’s happy enough right now that he could jump with no regrets, with rantaro’s eyes in mind, like neat constellations etched behind his eyelids—

“your nails are chipped.” rantaro’s voice cuts through his thoughts. the olive-haired boy bites his lip, looking slightly unsure, a far cry from his usual cool-headed self. it pains kokichi to know that he’s this bothered by the situation. by _him_. “come on, let’s go to the kitchens. we can grab a snack and i’ll paint your nails for you.”

kokichi wants to yell. to scream, to shake rantaro off of him and sprint back to that ledge. he wants to so _badly_ ; his nails dig into his palms, bloody half-moons appearing, and he relishes the biting pain of it. everything about that ledge is certain, no risk involved, but trusting rantaro offers far too many possibilities for his liking. too many opportunities to be hurt, and he’s done with hurting. he’s tired of being hurt over and over again; he just wants to be _happy._

“i’m going to go to this ledge tomorrow,” he says in lieu of an answer, and watches rantaro’s face whiten. take a risk, kokichi, take it. take it. god, just take it, for once in your life do something good for _yourself_ — “will you come and sit with me?” 

rantaro’s expression softens immensely, his green, green eyes gaining hints of intense pride. “of course. anytime, kichi, i mean it. we can make it a picnic, yeah? invite everyone?” 

_everyone_. more risks. more reward. more opportunities to be hurt again. “maybe just you and me this time. i’m not ready for…” he begins to admit, and then hesitates. 

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say it yet, if you’re not ready.” the taller boy starts walking down the steps, hand in hand with kokichi, trusting him to follow, and this time he doesn’t resist, letting rantaro lead him far, far away from his ledge. “just promise me you’ll stay tomorrow. and if everyday you promise me the next, then that’s good enough. one step at a time, right?”

kokichi thinks about the ledge again. thinks about how tempting it is, how inviting, how it offers the sweet mercy nothing else will. 

“okay.” he agrees, pressing close to rantaro as they descend the staircase. truths sound so weird falling from his lips, so unnatural, but he finds it’s a nice change from the constant second skin of lies he cloaks himself in. maybe with rantaro, he can… “i’ll give you tomorrow.”

the resulting smile on rantaro’s face is worth tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> idk wtf this is lol but yea . i meant for this to be a shuichi/kokichi fic but SOMEHOW it became rantaro/kokichi...
> 
> anyways. hope you liked this lol i haven’t checked for errors so if you spot any feel free to point them out to me!
> 
> as usual, kudos & comments are my lifeblood :)


End file.
